


sip me till im gone

by otter_pop



Series: ♥ [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Face-Sitting, Genderbending, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rule 63, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 04:55:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11662050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otter_pop/pseuds/otter_pop
Summary: Zitao wasn’t Jongdae’s anything— officially. They were something. An unlikely pair pushed together by mutual friends, a spark still waiting to catch fire, a something. Jongdae was right, but nothing more than that. A something, a possibility, a perhaps if they really wanted it to be.





	sip me till im gone

**Author's Note:**

> [♪♫♬](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xFb1HSxcNAw)

A bath sounded nice. It sounded so nice, Zitao couldn’t really hold back from the idea of it. She had been running around town all day long— half of it for work, half of it because she forgot to pick up groceries like she promised Jongdae she would—, and now she could feel a tired ache settling deep down into her bones. 

Her feet were throbbing from being pinched into a pair of tight black heels (worth the pain; her legs looked breathtaking), she felt like the muscles in her back were knotted into a painful mess from being overworked by her boss (Junmyeon spared no soul when the issue’s deadlines were coming up), and her arms still felt like jelly from carrying eight bags of groceries up four flights of stairs without stopping, because the elevator in their apartment complex was being repaired. 

_ God,  _ a bath really just sounded heavenly.

Starting the water up, Zitao sat on the edge of the bathtub, letting the water wash over her fingers before it finally ran hot, and with that, she popped the plug into the bottom of the tub and watched the water build up. 

Excitedly, she ran back to her bedroom, searching through her dresser for one of the gifts Jongdae had given her for Christmas. Finally, Zitao found a medium purple pouch, immediately tugging it open to see a bath bomb sitting inside of it. Jongdae hadn’t regarded the gift as anything special when she gave it to Zitao, even going as far as offhandedly rolling her eyes, because they were “a bit overrated”, but she heard Zitao talking about them a few weeks before, which was why she bought her one.

Small pink flowers littered the surface of the bath bomb, and Zitao could actually smell the floral perfume of it through the bag without even having taken it out. She was  _ definitely  _ using this if she was going to take a bath. 

Without sparing another moment, Zitao rushed off to the bathroom to find it half full. She waited until the bath was full to strip, first peeling off her button up work shirt and tossing it to the ground. Thank god she had the next two days off. She didn’t think she could look Kim Junmyeon in the face without punching her.

Zitao tied her hair up, undid the clasp on her bra, undid the button on her skirt and took it off before sliding her thumbs under her panties and kicking those off as well. She nearly forgot to plug her phone into the speaker she had bought to keep in the bathroom, for moments exactly like these.

As her favorite playlist started up, Zitao grabbed the bath bomb from the purple bag she brought in the bathroom. She dropped it into the bath after shutting the tap off, watched it fizz while wondering why she hadn’t done this  _ before  _ she was stark naked in the bathroom, but it wasn’t like it was much of an issue anyways. Jongdae was out with Minseok for the night, said she wouldn’t get home until late, which was to be expected when they went out clubbing, so Zitao had the apartment to herself for at least a few more hours. And to be completely honest, even if Jongdae were to walk through that front door  _ with  _ Minseok (or whoever she managed to reel in for the night), Zitao wasn’t sure she’d care if they saw her. That’s how tired she was.

The bath bomb stopped fizzing after a few minutes, and Zitao sighed, dipping her toe in the water and feeling the warmth spread across her skin. It took next to no time for her to completely slide down the wall of the bathtub, into the hot water, still steaming and forcing her muscles to relax.

Zitao couldn’t tell how much time had passed as she laid there in the bathtub. She recognized the song the was playing, hummed along as she crossed her legs and played with the pink dyed water, petals floating around her. She knew it must have been long enough for the water to cool down a bit, so she used her foot to turn the hot water on again.

The sound of rushing water combined with the music Zitao was playing in the bathroom completely drowned out whatever sounds in the apartment; the ticking of the clock in their hallway; the sound of the fan whirring in the living room (which Jongdae always forgot to shut off, even though Zitao complained about it all the time); the rumble of the dishwasher in the kitchen; even the sound of the front door unlocking with a click, and Jongdae huffing loudly as she ran her fingers through her hair.

Jongdae and Minseok  _ did  _ have plans to go out. Minseok just failed to mention that she was going to meet up a new friend of hers while they were out as well. She was nice enough, Jongdae thought— her name was Lu Han, and she smiled brightly, and Jongdae could tell she really liked Minseok. That was the only reason she could bear her for as long as she did, before she feigned a migraine from “drinking” (Jongdae hadn’t even gotten past a cranberry and 7-Up before she decided it was time to get back home and away from Minseok’s and Lu Han’s... whatever it was).

“Zitao,” Jongdae called out after tossing her keys on the stand in front of the door, kicking off her shoes in a messy pile in the hallway and letting her shoulders slouch for the first time that night. Her shirt was too tight, and the skirt she was wearing was even worse. Her only saving grace was the pair of boots she had decided to wear that night, opting out of heels.

Jongdae heard Zitao humming along in the bathroom to her bath playlist, and a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. The light spilling out into the hallway said Zitao hadn’t closed the door, as she usually forgot to whenever she thought Jongdae wouldn’t be home.

“Zitao,” Jongdae sang this time, walking down the hall and leaning against the open doorframe. “Miss me?” Jongdae said, making Zitao nearly jump at the sound of her voice, but after a moment, she rolled her eyes and closed them, leaning back against the tub once more.

“Weren’t you supposed to be out seducing some poor young soul for the night?” Zitao said.

“Oh, I’m hurt,” Jongdae replied, taking a step inside of the bathroom and catching the sight of herself in the mirror. She hadn’t even smudged her lipstick yet. What a disappointing night. “Minseok brought along some other girl. We were supposed to be out at a club together— y’know, looking for someone to take home—, but it seemed like she already had someone hanging off her arm.”

“Is that jealousy I hear?” Zitao said, turning her head to the side to look at Jongdae. Jongdae set her hand on her chest with a scoff.

“How dare you insinuate I’d get jealous of the plaything Minseok brought along?”

“‘Plaything’,” Zitao repeated with a snort.

“Jealousy is unbecoming of a woman anyway.” Jongdae brushed it off without sparing it a second thought. She leaned closer to the mirror, opening a package of wipes from top of the counter and wiping her lips off with one side, and using the opposite side for her eyes. “I take it work was hell.” She gestured towards the bath.

“God.” Zitao sighed. She hadn’t even thought about it since she slipped into the tub. “Junmyeon was a fucking hag today.”

“When isn’t she?” Jongdae replied.

“Stop, you know she’s usually not that bad. We had a deadline coming up, you know. I’ve been telling everybody for weeks— get off your ass, do your work, finish this article, hurry up with that photoshoot, don’t piss off Junmyeon— and what do they do? They wait until last minute, as always.” Zitao repositioned herself in the bathtub as the song changed. “Skip this one, I don’t wanna listen to it, please.”

Jongdae was already tapping the skip button. Zitao never liked listening to that song in the bath, which brought up the question of why it ended up on her playlist in the first place. 

“Anyway, they dicked around until the deadline, like they always do, but this time, Junmyeon got pissed off at  _ me.”  _ Zitao pouted and moved her arm, watched the pink water move along her skin before dripping down, into the water, and repeating the action. 

Jongdae finished wiping off what little bit of makeup she still had on. She didn’t lay it on heavy (unlike Zitao), so all she had left was to clean up her foundation before she turned to Zitao and sat down beside the tub, letting her fingers dip into the pink water.

“So she had me running around all day, just doing trivial shit for her because she said if I ‘couldn’t handle doing the big tasks’, then I should just be an errand girl, like I started off.”

“What a bitch.” Jongdae grimaced. “I don’t know why you still think working for her is doing anything for your career.”

“She’s one of the biggest names in fashion. I can’t just pretend she doesn’t have some sort of insight.” Zitao clicked her tongue as Jongdae rolled her eyes. “And I thought I was doing really well! I mean, up until this deadline business, Junmyeon was really starting to trust me.”

“I’m just saying,” Jongdae replied defensively, flickering her gaze over to Zitao. “Pisses me off when she treats you like shit.”

“Yeah?” Zitao said. “Why?”

“As your roommate, I get exclusive treating-Zitao-like-shit privileges.” Jongdae giggled at Zitao’s incredulous laugh, splashing water, but not enough to actually make it out of the tub. Jongdae was wearing one of her nice outfits, after all. She might actually start treating Zitao like shit if she stained it with the pink dye of the bath bomb. “You probably just have a thing for Junmyeon. That’s why you let her treat you like that.”

“That’s not true,” Zitao groused. Jongdae parted her lips to continue, but Zitao stopped her short. “Junmyeon isn’t even my type.”

Jongdae eyed Zitao suspiciously from her spot on the floor, crossing her legs and dipping her fingers in the water again. It wasn’t steaming hot anymore. Pretty soon it’d be lukewarm, and Zitao had already filled the tub up to the brim, so she’d have to get out sooner rather than later.

“What are you gonna do now that you didn’t bring home another notch for your bedpost?”

“God, don’t say it like that,” Jongdae said, but still laughing at the end of her sentence. “I dunno. We could watch a movie or something.”

“I’m tired,” Zitao reminded. “You should’ve stayed out longer. Brought home a girl since Minseok had her own already.”

“Mm, I have my own already, too,” Jongdae teased. Zitao already knew what Jongdae was going to say next, but didn’t stop her from talking. “I got you waiting for me in a bathtub, didn’t I?”

“This is news to me,” Zitao paused with a smile. “That I’m your girl.”

Jongdae shrugged. “You’re my something—”

“And I  _ wasn't  _ waiting for you in the tub. You just happened to walk in while I was soaking. You’re not my type either,” Zitao said, pushing herself up out of the tub, knocking her toe against the plug at the bottom of the tub and then bending over to pick it up and set it to the side. Jongdae still sat the side of the tub, listening to the water rush down the drain before Zitao turned the shower on and let out a weak laugh. “Take a picture if you’re gonna stare, jiejie.”

“You’d like that,” Jongdae said before pushing herself off of the floor and stretching her arms up over her head. She smiled while she walked out of the bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind her.

It’s not like either Jongdae or Zitao were right or wrong either. Zitao wasn’t Jongdae’s anything— officially. They were something. An unlikely pair pushed together by mutual friends, somehow bearing one another enough to get an apartment together, a spark still waiting to catch fire, a  _ something.  _ Jongdae was right, but nothing more than that. A something, a possibility, a perhaps if they really wanted it to be.

By the time Zitao was finished in the shower, Jongdae had changed into a pair of sweats and a tank top, hair lazily strewn across her shoulders, though it was still curled at the ends from her disappointing night out with Minseok. Zitao walked to her room and changed into nothing more than a pair of underwear and a long t-shirt, too lazy and too tired to even care about getting dressed. After all, it was just Jongdae at the apartment. If Jongdae had brought someone home, Zitao might have cared to put on a pair of shorts— heavy emphasis on  _ might.  _

When Zitao came out of her room, she found Jongdae brewing some tea, clearly not planning on sleeping early. Zitao carefully padded her way into the kitchen, opening the fridge and crouching down to grab a box of leftover food from a few nights before.

Zitao turned around, coming face to face with Jongdae, the two pulling away for just a split second with a laugh. Zitao knew this game. Jongdae knew this game. Both of them could have easily opted out of it early on, they both knew that.

Jongdae moved to turn the stove off, and Zitao accidentally brushed her hand against Jongdae’s hip, warm, welcoming, before putting her hand up to her mouth with a coquettish smile on her pink lips. Jongdae wanted to bite them, make them red and swollen, but she waited, pouring herself a cup of tea and asking Zitao if she wanted any.

Zitao only managed to get her food on a plate and in the microwave, turning it on for three minutes before she turned around and found Jongdae sipping on her cup of tea, seated comfortably on the counter and leaning back on one hand. It was inviting. Always inviting, always so tempting.

A something— that was definite.

“You know, you could just say you want me,” Zitao said over the microwave. Jongdae shrugged.

“That takes all the fun out of it.”

“‘It’?” Zitao repeated.

The curled corners of Jongdae’s lips gave the answer away, though it wasn’t like Zitao didn’t know what she was referring to. “Winning you over.”

“Really?” Zitao said, taking a step forward, watching as Jongdae’s eyes flickered down to Zitao’s feet, watching every step, every inch she moved forward, before Zitao was right in front of her, hands resting on Jongdae’s knees. With hardly a push, Jongdae spread her legs, let Zitao slot herself between them with a pleased smile. “Are you winning me over, or are you seducing me?”

“Isn’t it both? Now, excuse me,” Jongdae said, placing her hand in the middle of Zitao’s chest, pushing her back, despite the way Zitao parted her lips so very obviously as an invitation. “You’re interrupting my tea time.”

“Oh my god, you sound like a grandma.” Zitao snorted, Jongdae hardly responding and taking another sip of her tea. “Fine.”

Jongdae crossed her legs when Zitao pulled away. “Pour me another cup, would you?” Jongdae held her cup out towards Zitao, who begrudgingly snatched it from her hands and turned to pour another cup.

Zitao held the kettle tightly, one hand on the handle and the other holding the top of it shut with a towel.

After pouring Jongdae a cup and setting the kettle back down on the stove, Zitao hardly blinked, barely pulled away from the stove, before she felt Jongdae’s arms snaking around her waist, pulling her close and slotting her against her body. 

Despite being shorter, skinnier than Zitao, Jongdae kept a firm grip on her body, not allowing Zitao even an inch to turn. Jongdae pressed her lips against the shell of Zitao’s ear, her breath tickling at the skin and sending chills along Zitao’s spine. This was new. Different, at least. If Jongdae wanted something from Zitao, she usually just took it, as long as Zitao was willing to give.

“Thought you wanted more tea?” Zitao tried to break the silence, words heavy on her tongue as she stumbled through them. Jongdae let out a breathy laugh, moving one hand from Zitao’s waist to her mess of long hair falling past her shoulders and brushing it away. She still smelled like the bath she just took; floral and fading, so faint on her skin, Jongdae wanted to lick it off.

“I do,” she said, taking the cup from Zitao and pulling her back, towards the opposite counter before pinning her against it and earning a quiet gasp from her, barely audible, but enough to make Jongdae’s skin prickle with delight. “And after I drink this cup, I’m going to fuck you on your bed.”

Zitao let her lips part, breaths heavy. “ _ Fuck,”  _ she just barely managed to utter, Jongdae grinning and lifting the cup of tea to her lips.

“Maybe four times tonight, hm?”

_ Four,  _ Jesus-fucking-Christ,  _ four times,  _ Zitao thought, but not panicked or scared, but... excited. Jongdae had gotten her to two before, well on her way to three, if it hadn’t been for Junmyeon calling with an emergency (the definition of emergency was objective, apparently), and interrupting their time together. Part of Zitao thought that was what Jongdae held against Junmyeon, as she seemed to have no qualms with her before. Now she sneered at the mention of her name, grimaced and complained that Zitao deserved to be working for better.

Jongdae pulled away without another word, only walking into the living room with her cup of tea and copping a squat on the couch. After another second, she turned the television on, changing the channels and settling on a cooking show. 

Zitao took a moment to recover, following Jongdae out to the living room the way an injured puppy would, but didn’t move to sit beside Jongdae, or even make it obvious that she wanted her. Instead, she sat back on the recliner they had, letting her legs curl up close beside her while Jongdae sat back and took another drink of her tea. 

And Zitao did her best to ignore the heat pooling between her legs, feign ignorance against the fact that the way she crossed her legs did little to relieve the pressure she could feel. It was so unfair how easily Jongdae could get her like this. Out of curiosity or some childish necessity to see if she was losing, Zitao looked over at Jongdae, who was still idly sipping at her tea, fully engrossed in her show as she hardly spared a glance to even make sure she was setting her cup down on the table beside the couch.

Of course Zitao was losing. Of course Jongdae  _ wasn’t  _ affected, or at least, not visibly affected. She always was so good at hiding it from Zitao.

“Your food?” Jongdae said, sudden, made Zitao jump at the sound of her voice.

“Huh?”

“Your food in the microwave— you gonna eat it?”

“Oh,” Zitao said. “Right.”

Zitao had completely forgot, if that wasn’t already clear by her dumbfounded tone of voice. But to be quite honest, her appetite was gone, or at least, wasn’t the main thing on her mind now. 

Nevertheless, she walked into the kitchen again, took out her food, and ended up leaving it on the counter to cool while she picked at a few stray noodles and grimaced when she realized she was too distracted to eat. She could always eat it later when she was hungry again.

Jongdae tried her best to hide the smug grin on her face when Zitao sat down beside her on the couch this time, their feet brushing before Jongdae curled in closer on herself. Zitao was so obvious, so blatantly wanting, and it made Jongdae ridiculously happy to know she had that effect on her.

Before long, the end credits of the show rolled, and Jongdae shut the television off before another episode could start. Zitao was looking at her, wide eyed, waiting, pupils dilated just ever so slightly.

“You want to?” Jongdae said, and with that, Zitao was shooting out of her seat, all clumsy limbs and heavy breaths, trying to kiss Jongdae, succeeding once or twice before Jongdae set her hand between their lips and pulled away. “I have to clean up my mess.”

“Jiejie, please,” Zitao whined. A pout formed on her lips, shoulders falling with the action.

“You look cute pouting, but I don’t want cute.” Jongdae flicked her finger across Zitao’s bottom lip. Zitao tried leaning in again, capturing Jongdae’s lips between her own, only to earn Jongdae pushing her away by her chest, just enough for space to speak. “Zitao, I said I’m cleaning up.”

The authority in her voice made Zitao still, nodding as an apologetic look immediately fell over her face. Jongdae took a moment to study Zitao before pointing in the direction of the hall.

“Go,” she ordered, and Zitao skittered away like a scolded child, walking into her own room and leaving the door open, just slightly, only enough for the light to spill out in the hallway.

Jongdae took her time cleaning up her glass and the kettle, and even popped Zitao’s food back into the fridge, though it was still warm to the touch. She cleaned up the apartment a little bit, locked the front door with the latch, and finally (“Finally!” Zitao thought) slid Zitao’s bedroom door open. Zitao sat cross legged on her bed, looking down at her phone and sliding her fingers along the screen, staring at the messages so intently that she didn’t notice Jongdae until she cleared her throat.

“Sorry,” Zitao said, dropping her phone on the side table with a harsh  _ clack!  _ before wincing and looking back at Jongdae. “I was just replying to something Junmyeon sent me.”

The sound of her name made an odd expression appear on Jongdae’s face, before she sneered and walked to the side of Zitao’s bed. Zitao took in a harsh breath. The apples of her cheeks were already pink with embarrassment, legs spread as Jongdae grabbed her by her shoulders and laid her down, crawling between her legs.

“I want to eat you out,” Jongdae said bluntly, making Zitao choke on her words, but nod in agreement a moment later. “Eventually.”

“Eventually,” Zitao echoed, to which Jongdae nodded. “What are you doing first, then?”

“My fingers,” Jongdae leaned in closer, ducking her head and immediately catching her teeth on the crook of Zitao’s neck, the juncture where it met her shoulder, and scraping her teeth against the skin. Zitao shivered hard, caught off guard as her hands darted for Jongdae’s hair. “If you want to keep going after I eat you out, then maybe a toy.”

“Fuck,” Zitao interrupted as Jongdae’s hands pushed up, along her stomach, lifting the t-shirt with her movements and taking in every dip and divot of Zitao’s body, across the slightly defined muscles in her abdomen, lingering on the skin.

“Wish I had nails to scratch you with,” Jongdae muttered against Zitao’s throat, biting down again and sucking hard.

“You’re gonna leave marks,” Zitao said urgently, and Jongdae hummed in affirmation. “N-no, they’ll see at work, and... and Junmyeon will  _ definitely  _ see—”

“If you say her name one more time, I swear to god, Zitao,” Jongdae said as she pulled away, a grimace of dissatisfaction on her lips. 

“She’s going to see if you leave marks,” Zitao mumbled petulantly.

Jongdae frowned, but didn’t insist on it anymore. Instead, she leaned in again, this time kissing Zitao with fervor. Zitao easily parted her lips and let Jongdae slide her tongue across her palette with a low moan. 

They stopped for a breath, Jongdae kissing along Zitao’s jawline, returning when she felt the tug of Zitao’s fingers in her hair, and kissing her senseless again. Zitao was the kind of easy and pliant that came with a bite, came with teasing and taunting, the kind of pliant that Jongdae had to work for, and she loved it, absolutely adored it.

“Jongdae,” Zitao managed to say without stuttering, trying to catch Jongdae’s attention by grinding her hips upwards, show her how desperately she wanted her to touch her already. From the few times they had messed around before, Zitao knew Jongdae was meticulous, liked to take her time taking Zitao apart and finding out the things she liked.

Zitao pulled her t-shirt off when she felt Jongdae pull away, shoving it upwards and tossing it to the side after she smoothed her hair down and fell back against the ever-warming sheets of her bed. Jongdae sat between Zitao’s legs, not smiling, not teasing, and only half looking like she wanted to devour Zitao whole. Suddenly feeling self-conscious and more than a little exposed, Zitao pulled her legs close, nearly closing off on Jongdae, who only set her hands on Zitao’s thighs and pushed them down, pinning her to the bed.

“Don’t,” Jongdae ordered. Zitao felt heat rush through her veins, pooling down at the bottom of her stomach and threatening to overwhelm her already intense heat.

Jongdae kissed down, along the line of her chest, at her sternum before moving her kisses to the right, tracing her tongue along the faint edge of her areola. Zitao stuttered out a moan, thinking only after a moment to bite down on her hand and stifle a desperate sound that was too much to give and too early for it as well. Jongdae took Zitao’s nipple into her mouth, mindful of her teeth, hardly letting Zitao enjoy the sensation before she pulled away and blew air across the surface of her golden kissed skin.

“Aren’t you just so pretty?” Jongdae said as she pulled away. Zitao’s chest was heaving with her breaths, like she had ran a marathon and then some, even flush with sweat and a sheen of pink embarrassment. Jongdae moved to the side, sucking just beside Zitao’s nipple and earning a loud and sudden moan, Zitao tugging just a little too hard on Jongdae’s dark hair as she pulled away with a hiss.

“I’m sorry!” Zitao apologized immediately. Jongdae didn’t know whether to scold her or forgive her, so she just leaned in and did it again, felt Zitao pull on her hair once more, not as intense, but still sudden, still wanting.

With her lips still on Zitao, pressing fluttering kisses and licking at whatever she could, Jongdae slid her hand down, to the band of the panties Zitao was wearing. Zitao took in a sharp breath, looked down to where Jongdae rested her warm palm against the flat of her stomach, pointing her index finger out and tracing it down along the line of her underwear.

“Taozi,” Jongdae sang out, the fond name immediately pulsing through Zitao’s body as she let her lips part with desperation, nodding wildly. “So wet already?”

“Jiejie, I—” Zitao whimpered when she felt Jongdae move her hand completely down, cupping her arousal before dragging her fingertips across the wetness soaking through her underwear already.

“So wet for me.” Jongdae hummed, pressing her fingers a little harder, catching more of Zitao’s slick on her fingertips before pulling her hand back and sucking on her fingers. “You have no idea how much I love that.”

Zitao flushed hard, her cheeks red as she moved to hide her face behind her arms. 

It had come up in conversation once before— when they were first roommates. Jongdae had been complaining about a woman she brought home, and the conversation led to their pet peeves when it came to partners. 

Jongdae’s was having somebody who was too shy, too conservative, someone who would make her feel like they had to stick to the same basic things. Jongdae also felt the need to mention that she didn’t really like women who were shorter than her, which Zitao kept it mind every time she towered over Jongdae in passing moments.

And Zitao accidentally let it slip how she had issues sleeping with people sometimes, hated the talking aspect of sex more often than not, because her partners always,  _ always  _ commented on how wet she was, though not in the way Jongdae did. 

No, whenever Zitao was with a man or another woman, they always found the slick between Zitao’s legs to be a testament to  _ themselves—  _ to how they made Zitao feel. And yes, it was true, that Zitao was turned on because of them, at least a little bit, but the fact remained that Zitao’s body just happened to do that. 

Sometimes Zitao would find herself wet in the oddest placed moments, like after speaking to Jongdae about her day, or maybe when Minseok would hug her and make comments on her appearance, because Jongdae didn’t really care for complimenting Zitao or particularly focusing on it. Minseok did, and when Minseok would focus on it, apparently some part of Zitao really enjoyed that.

But with Jongdae it was... different. Jongdae never touched Zitao and thought of herself, but would touch Zitao, would slip her fingers through the wetness between her thighs, make her come, and at the end of it, Jongdae would  _ thank  _ her, like Zitao was giving her a gift. The choice of words was so subtle, most people wouldn’t notice, but with Jongdae, it was “how wet you are  _ for  _ me”, not, “how wet you are  _ because  _ of me”.

Jongdae kissed up Zitao’s chest, littered with love bites she knew Zitao would complain about in the morning, before Zitao kissed her, their lips smashing together as Jongdae’s teeth caught on Zitao’s bottom lip, nipping at the red skin and feeling Zitao’s hips stutter off of the bed with the same desperation she had earlier.

“Jiejie, please,” said Zitao, eyes hazy as Jongdae pulled away and bit her bottom lip. “Please, I want....”

“What do you want, Taozi?”

“Want you to touch me— want— want your fingers inside of me.” Zitao squirmed on the bed, trying to take the panties off herself, but Jongdae smacked her hands away and pinned them beside her head. Zitao’s fingers twitched. She could throw Jongdae off if she wanted to. She could have pinned Jongdae down and eaten her out, made her come three times over already. Zitao could do that. She just... didn’t.

“I wanna make you come through your underwear,” Jongdae said, crooking her finger just slightly, grinding the flat of her index finger against the hood of Zitao’s clit after positioning her fingers correctly. Zitao nodded, one hand snaked along Jongdae’s back as she pressed her blunt nails in deep, hoping they left marks. 

She repeated the action, over and over, felt Zitao’s hips flexing off of the bed as she chased what little delicious friction Jongdae was giving her through the soaked panties. Zitao hadn't been touched this way (so superficially), since she was in high school, her first girlfriend too shy to touch her any other way. Zitao always had to work for her orgasm, chase after the pleasure, because there wasn't  _ much _ when her ex had done this.

But Jongdae was pressing just a bit harder, just a touch closer to Zitao’s clit, made Zitao cry out when she nearly found it through her underwear alone.

Jongdae used two fingers, one on either side of Zitao’s lips, spreading her just enough to feel Zitao shudder and nod her head.

“Can you come like this?” Jongdae said, Zitao’s choked off moan answer enough as she felt Jongdae move her fingers close, one finger on either side of the hood to her clit. If Jongdae would just move her fingers a little more, would press closer—

“Uh huh,” Zitao nodded, rocking her hips off of the bed and watching as a satisfied smile appeared on Jongdae’s lips. Jongdae ducked down again, not for a kiss, but to lave her warm tongue against Zitao’s nipple, scraping her teeth against her as it pebbled. Zitao whimpered at the sight, Jongdae looking up at her with something playful in her eye, teasing, taunting.

Jongdae used her pinky finger to ghost lower, barely touching Zitao through her panties, but Zitao was hyper aware, oversensitive, registered the touch and whined even louder.

“Fuck, you’re warm,” Jongdae said against Zitao’s chest, biting down on the marks she left behind and sucking on them again, making them a little more red, bruised, hoping she left her mark on Zitao so dark, it would show up against the tight white of her work shirts. Hoped her snobby coworkers would see them and blush in embarrassment while Zitao tried to hide them away.

The sound of Zitao’s phone ringing brought them both back down to reality. Zitao’s eyes widened, recognizing the ringtone and looking back at Jongdae.

“It’s—”

“Don’t even say it,” Jongdae said. Zitao swallowed hard, the thick silence in the air mingling with the sound of the ringtone.

Zitao wiggled her hips, just barely inching away from Jongdae’s touch. “I should answer.”

“No,” she growled, grabbing Zitao’s arm and pinning it to the bed. Zitao’s eyes were blown wide now.

“Jongdae-jie, if I don’t answer, Junmyeon will be—”

“I told you not to say her name,” Jongdae ordered with the rough grind of her fingers against Zitao, making Zitao moan out loud, then slapping her free hand across her mouth, as if Junmyeon could hear her through the unanswered call.

“It— it could be an emergency,” Zitao reasoned, to which Jongdae’s cheeks flushed darker, more frustrated with every weak argument Zitao offered.

“Zitao.”

A chill settled in Zitao’s core at the sound of her name, the way Jongdae seemed to savor every curve of her lips around Zitao’s name. 

Without saying what she planned, Jongdae started rubbing her fingers against Zitao again, savoring the small squeak that slipped at the sensation alone.

“I think I figured out why you like Junmyeon so much,” Jongdae punctuated the end of her sentence with another grind of her fingers. Jongdae’s expression was steeled, neither a smile nor a frown on her face. Only watching, studying Zitao, admiring the way she moaned when Jongdae pressed just right against her clit. “You like her telling you what to do, don’t you?”

Zitao darted her hand for Jongdae’s wrist, the two pausing.

“You want me to stop?” Jongdae said. Zitao swallowed thickly, the call from Junmyeon dropping with the finality of the ringtone. “Taozi?”

Zitao jumped, almost like waking up from a stupor, blinking her eyes and meeting Jongdae’s gaze. “Don’t stop.”

Jongdae nodded her head, but Zitao didn’t move her hand away from Jongdae’s wrist. Instead, she pressed a little harder, led Jongdae’s fingers just against the hood of her clit, finger flicking across it even through her panties.

“You like being bossed around.”

It sounded accusatory, like Zitao should have been ashamed of it or something, but the pleased look in Jongdae’s eye suggested otherwise.

“Like it when people tell you what to do and how to do it, right?”

Jongdae curled her fingers, the new angle letting her press deliciously close against Zitao’s clit, and earning a loud huff of breath.

“I don’t like that,” Jongdae said.

“You don’t like—  _ hah—  _ being bossed around?” Zitao managed through her embarrassment.

“Don’t like seeing  _ other people _ boss you around.”

Zitao’s hand fell away from Jongdae’s wrist, Jongdae picking up the speed of her fingers and watching as Zitao rocked her hips off of the bed, trying to chase her orgasm, which had long since been building up in the pit of her stomach.

“Don’t stop,” Zitao repeated her thoughts from earlier, gut twisting with pleasure as Jongdae used her free hand to cup her right breast, loosely tracing her index finger along her nipple.

“You know that? I don’t  _ like  _ that Junmyeon tells you what to do.”

“She’s— she’s my boss!” Zitao said.

“If Junmyeon told you to get on your knees for her, would you?” Jongdae asked.

“That’s petty,” Zitao hissed back, her back arching just slightly off of the bed.

Jongdae didn’t appear amused with the accusation, so Zitao huffed, cheeks red. This really wasn’t the kind of talk she wanted right before she came from Jongdae’s fingers, and yet, there she was, indulging her in it.

“Why do you care so much anyways?” Zitao paused her stubborn response to moan. “I’m gonna come.”

“Why do I care? Why do I— Taozi.” Jongdae said her name to catch her attention, voice low, her free hand now sliding up her chest and settling at the base of her throat. “I’m the only one that gets to tell you what to do.”

Zitao panted outwardly now, too lost to care about what Jongdae was saying. Of course Jongdae would want to talk about something so petty while she was fucking her, because Jongdae  _ was  _ petty and mean, took pride in it sometimes when Zitao called her out on it.

“You’re mine,” said Jongdae, now tightening her fingers at Zitao’s throat, nothing too tight, only with the implication of a threat left on her skin as Zitao gasped and clawed her fingers down Jongdae’s back.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m  _ coming.”  _ Zitao hiccuped, her hips jerking up, chasing after the little amount of friction Jongdae was giving her through her underwear. Choking on her words, Zitao arched her back, and then fell back down in her place with a loud sigh. Jongdae didn’t stop until Zitao darted her hand for her wrist again, jerking it away with a desperate whine.

Zitao panted heavily, her chest still heaving up and down while the aftershocks of her orgasm settled in her muscles, hips twitching when Jongdae traced her fingertip along the seam of her panties.

“Even more wet than before.” Jongdae hummed. She was satisfied. No, actually, she was smug, Zitao decided, when she felt Jongdae pull her underwear to the side, allowing the cool air of her bedroom to hit the slick wetness between her thighs. Jongdae just barely dipped her finger between her labia, pulled back with a small noise of awe when she saw her finger shining from how wet Zitao was, a mixture of her being turned on at first and her cum together.

When Zitao had some semblance of control over herself, she flickered her gaze to Jongdae.

“Zhongda—” The name came out before Zitao had realized it, quickly correcting herself. “Jongdae.”

“Mm?” Jongdae hummed, content for the moment.

“Did you— did you mean what you said?”

Jongdae furrowed her brows.

“Never mind,” Zitao said.

“If you mean when I said you’re mine, then yes, of course I meant it.” Jongdae said, sliding her hands up Zitao’s arms, lacing their fingers together before pinning her to the bed. “You’re mine, and only mine.”

Zitao narrowed her gaze towards Jongdae. “When did you decide I was suddenly yours?”

“You’ve always been mine, Taozi.” Jongdae leaned in close enough to sneak a kiss from Zitao, another one a moment later, the scrape of her teeth against Zitao’s bottom lip before laving her tongue over the spot. “Since the first time, you’ve always been mine.”

“Is that why you stopped bringing girls over?” Zitao said. Jongdae nodded her head, slowly crawling over Zitao’s hips and settling on her lap. “Why you didn’t stay out longer and bring a girl home tonight?”

“You already know the answer.” Jongdae said, sliding her hands up along Zitao’s neck, leaning in and kissing her hard.

“Wanna hear you say it,” Zitao said between kisses. Jongdae hushed her with another one, and another, and then slipped her tongue in and felt Zitao swallow hard against her. 

“Yes, Zitao.” Jongdae dropped her lips to Zitao’s jawline, nipping and biting, moving to her throat and the crook of her neck again. “Is that what you want to hear? That I stopped fucking other girls because they’re not you?” Jongdae punctuated her sentence by biting down on the curve of Zitao’s throat.

Jongdae loved leaving marks on her, and as much as Zitao protested at first, a part of her loved it too. She loved feeling claimed; thrived off of the offhand looks her coworkers gave her and sometimes commented on; loved it when it was obvious that Jongdae was rough with her. Zitao loved it all. She wanted it all.

“Yes,” Zitao breathed out, shaky.

“I left Minseok because she had Lu Han, and every time I thought about looking for someone to bring home, I thought about you, waiting on my bed, fucking yourself back on your fingers.”

“ _ Yes,”  _ Zitao said as she felt Jongdae repositioning herself, moving off of Zitao’s legs so she could tug Zitao’s panties off and roll them to her ankles, let Zitao kick them off the rest of the way. The air was so cool against the slick wetness of her pussy, Jongdae practically felt her mouth water at the sight alone.

“Can I?” Jongdae said. Zitao squirmed.

“‘M still sensitive,” she said, embarrassed, but nodded her head. “Yeah, you can.”

Jongdae hooked her fingers underneath Zitao’s knees, jerking her back and watching as Zitao’s hair fanned out on the pillow beneath her. Zitao let out a breathy laugh, Jongdae curving one hand around the plump softness of her breast and dragging her finger across her still-hard nipples, then sliding down, lower, pushing Zitao’s thighs apart and reveling in how the sticky wetness dripping down from her hole seemed to slide down, along her perineum and the curve of her ass. With one fell swoop, Jongdae licked it up, felt Zitao’s hips jerk off of the bed from the short stimulus alone.

Jongdae didn’t take her time now. Zitao was wet, wet, wet, dripping past her lips as Jongdae slipped her index finger just past her labia and inside of her, felt the slick spread across her skin with a smile. Zitao wasn’t so smug— a loud, hardly controllable moan slipped past her lips. Fleetingly, Jongdae was reminded of their neighbors, how the walls weren’t exactly thick between apartments.

Oh well.

Jongdae had her finger sliding into Zitao’s cunt a few moments later, Zitao moaning lowly and nodding her head. After another second, Jongdae had two fingers inside of her, pumping inside languidly and working her walls while Jongdae marveled over how wet Zitao was getting, how absolutely delicious she looked.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Jongdae said, Zitao peering her eyes down and barely pushing herself up on her elbows before she felt Jongdae’s mouth on her pussy, using her free hand to spread Zitao’s lips, easily finding her clit with her tongue.

This was really Zitao’s favorite position: lying underneath Jongdae, letting Jongdae have her way with her while her fingers pressed inside of her. Jongdae looked up at Zitao, their eyes meeting, and Zitao moaned at the visual alone, her walls tightening around Jongdae’s fingers before Jongdae let her eyes fall shut.

As she ate Zitao out, she moaned, groaned, begged for more through the noisy slurps of her lips as Zitao tangled her fingers in Jongdae’s hair, but didn’t dare pull too hard. Jongdae hummed, flicking her tongue across Zitao’s clit before grinding her fingers into Zitao again, dirty, desperate, asking Zitao if she wanted to come, wanted her slick to coat Jongdae’s fingers all the way down to her palm and then some.

Jongdae slid a third finger in, watched as Zitao arched off of the bed. She nodded frantically, her lips parted, the beginnings of words slipping out of her lips, but not saying anything. She stuttered and stumbled her way over Jongdae’s name, clenching around Jongdae’s fingers as she felt Jongdae lave her tongue across her clit over and over, sucking around it, her lips brushing and rubbing against her, and—

“I’m gonna fucking come,” Zitao managed a second time, rushing her words out and falling back down to the bed with a loud cry. Jongdae massaged Zitao through her second orgasm, feeling Zitao absolutely dripping down her hand, along the insides of her thighs, taste lingering and sharp on her tongue. 

A whine escaped Zitao, her chest heaving up and down as Jongdae continued eating her out, slipping her fingers out and focusing only on her clit.

“Too much,” Zitao said. “Jiejie.”

Jongdae nosed her way up through Zitao’s pubic hair, kissing her way up and leaving a trail of Zitao’s cum along the way. She stopped at Zitao’s stomach, biting lightly, and looking up at Zitao.

“Want me to stop?” She said. Zitao’s mouth suddenly felt dry at the sight of Jongdae, her lips shining and red from eating her out for so long. Normally Zitao would be embarrassed about the drop of her cum and spit at the bottom of Jongdae’s chin, threatening to drip down on her, but she couldn’t help feeling pleasure rush through her body another time. “Taozi?”

“Do you want to keep going?” Zitao said. Already, Zitao could see the argument forming on Jongdae’s lips, that it didn’t matter what Jongdae wanted, so Zitao answered quickly. “No, I don’t want you to stop. Do you...?”

Jongdae grinned, the curled corners of her lips forcing a chill along Zitao’s veins.

“Of course I want to eat you out more. Do you know how sweet you taste?” Jongdae mouthed down Zitao’s stomach again, along her hip bones and her right thigh, moving inward, and up again. “You know how pretty you are when you come from my tongue?”

With how Jongdae was talking, Zitao figured her third orgasm wouldn’t be fair behind.

But Zitao practically sobbed when Jongdae brushed her fingers along her labia, oversensitive and shaking.

“Maybe not a third time yet,” Jongdae said, clicking her tongue.

“Jiejie, I want it,” Zitao pleaded suddenly.

“You’re too sensitive.” Jongdae looked down at Zitao, whose eyes were wide, begging, hands searching for purchase on Jongdae’s shoulders. Zitao pulled her down, lower, kissing Jongdae roughly and rocking her hips off of the bed in desperation.  _ “Shit— _ you can’t. It’ll be too much.”

Zitao whined, pushing her hand down, pressing her fingers inside of herself and letting out a loud cry when her ring finger brushed against her clit— throbbing, and so, so sensitive.

_ “Fuck,  _ Taozi.” Jongdae breathed hard. “Fuck, you’re crying.”

She was, but not from pain. She had tears budding in the corners of her eyes out of desperation. She wanted Jongdae so bad, wanted to feel her tongue on her, wanted to come four times like Jongdae asked for earlier.

“Want you  _ here, _ jiejie.” Zitao spoke entirely in Mandarin, Jongdae flushing with excitement before she nodded and fell back to her stomach, pushing Zitao’s thighs apart, lifting her legs up over her shoulders and settling snugly between her legs. 

Jongdae spared not even a second to allow Zitao to collect herself, spreading her lips and pressing her tongue flat against the sticky cum between Zitao’s legs. Zitao outright  _ wailed,  _ her hips shaking as Jongdae held her by her hips, arms hooked under her thighs. Zitao’s body begged, pleaded for Zitao to stop, to let her relax, but Zitao wanted everything, wanted to come on Jongdae’s tongue again.

The more Zitao bucked off of the bed, the more Jongdae followed, ending up on her knees, back bent while she made the most disgusting slurping noises, absolutely deplorable and debauched and nothing but pure sex, but god, if that didn’t turn Zitao on the most. Zitao’s back was arched completely off the bed now, hands tangled in the sheets as she cried out at the feeling of Jongdae dipping her tongue inside of her cunt, tongue-fucking her. Zitao’s body trembled with pleasure, nodding her head, though she wasn’t sure Jongdae could even  _ see  _ her.

“Fuck my mouth,” Jongdae said once she pulled away for a split second, immediately diving back in. Zitao pushed herself up on her arms, the position taxing on both of them. Sure, Zitao worked out, but her arms were like jelly at the moment, and Jongdae was using all her strength to hold her up while she began tracing her tongue over Zitao’s clit over and over, her bottom and top lip rubbing against her as Zitao began to grind her hips dirty over Jongdae’s mouth.

Zitao whined when she felt Jongdae’s hands squeeze against her ass, helping her fuck Jongdae’s mouth, all cum and spit mixed together on her lips, down to her chin, dripping down her throat, even as far as Jongdae’s nose. 

Zitao was a hot mess, and if this were anyone else, she’d be embarrassed. But it wasn’t anybody else. It was Jongdae, her roommate, her best friend, her... lover? Girlfriend? Jongdae said Zitao was hers, but how much of Zitao did Jongdae want?

“Oh, fuck!” Zitao said without warning, without so much as a hint of the fact that she was going to come, but Jongdae knew. Knew, and continued eating Zitao out, pulling away only to quickly rub her fingers over Zitao’s clit while she rode her orgasm out, sobbing.

Zitao fell back on the bed, boneless, tired, her body aching for a break. Jongdae put her fingers up to her mouth and sucked hard, cleaning up Zitao’s mess of cum and licking between her fingers to make sure she had it all. Zitao almost asked for Jongdae’s fingers, when Jongdae leaned in and pressed fluttery kisses to her temples, the corners of her lips, stopped to kiss her chastely, but Zitao forced her way into Jongdae’s mouth, tasted herself all over Jongdae, and  _ fuck,  _ she was still so turned on.

“One more time,” Zitao panted. Jongdae shook her head. “Don’t think you can?”

“I know I can, Taozi, but you’re sensitive. It’ll just hurt.”

“Want you, jiejie,” Zitao repeated her thoughts from earlier. This time, Jongdae shook her head.

“No more for a little bit.”

“Wanna come four times, like you said.”

Jongdae hummed, her lips still flushed red. God, Zitao wanted to kiss her again.

“You want jiejie?” Jongdae said. Zitao nodded excitedly. “Wanna make dajie happy?”

Pleasure flashed hot through Zitao’s body at the implication of her words.

“Yes.” Zitao moaned.

“Show me,” Jongdae said, peeling her tank top off and tossing it to the side, Her small tits perked at the cold air of the room, nipples pebbling. Zitao sighed happily as Jongdae crawled over Zitao’s small frame after peeling her sweatpants off, let Zitao reposition herself on the bed so Jongdae was hovering over her face, her pussy just barely out of Zitao’s reach. Jongdae was just as wet as Zitao was at first, which made sense, considering how long she had gone without touching herself, only listening to Zitao come over and over and over.

“Sit on my face,” Zitao pleaded. Jongdae let out an airy laugh.

Before Jongdae could sit down fully, Zitao’s phone went off again.

“You've gotta be kidding me,” Jongdae huffed. Zitao whined when she felt Jongdae beginning to pull off of her. “It’s your stupid fucking boss again.”

“I don’t want to answer, dajie, I don’t want to answer,” Zitao rushed out frantically. 

“Not even for your boss?” Jongdae said, satisfied. Zitao shook her head.

“Just want you, just wanna make you happy.”

Jongdae reached to the side, grabbed Zitao’s phone and held her finger over the answer button.

“Then I want her to hear what she’s interrupting.”

Zitao swallowed thickly, the call ending. 

“I could lose my job,” Zitao said nervously.

Only a few seconds later, the ringtone started up again.

“She won’t fire you, Taozi. You’re at home right now. What you do at home is your prerogative.” Jongdae traced her finger along the seam of Zitao’s lips, making Zitao open her mouth easily and suck at Jongdae’s fingers, which still tasted of her. “And you’re her best protege. She’d be insane to fire you.”

Once again, the call ended, shorter this time, like Junmyeon was getting impatient.

Truthfully, Zitao hardly needed convincing. The idea made Zitao hotter, turned on, and after a moment, she nodded. Jongdae swept her finger across the answer button when she noticed Junmyeon calling a  _ third  _ time, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she dropped it back on the dresser beside the bed, and then made quick moves to straddle Zitao’s face. Faintly, Zitao could hear Junmyeon calling out, frustrated, angry, but all else became nothing but white noise when Jongdae moaned, lowering herself enough for Zitao to slip her tongue inside of her cunt.

“Taozi.” Jongdae whined particularly loud, already on the edge of an orgasm just from rocking her face back and forth, tongue tracing over Jongdae’s clit and then diving back into her pussy to savor the taste of her slick.  _ “Haah,  _ Taozi, like that.”

Zitao moaned helplessly, allowed herself to drown in Jongdae’s taste, a mixture of her slick and Zitao’s spit dripping past her lips and her mouth, along her chin. Jongdae grinded harder, using Zitao entirely, fingers tangled in Zitao’s hair and  _ using  _ her. The idea alone had Zitao crossing her legs in frustration, trying to hide her budding excitement.

“That’s my good Zitao, isn’t it?” Jongdae said, rocking harder and watching as Zitao licked from her perineum, all the way to her opening, dipping her tongue in, and then lingering on her clit before licking all the way up. Jongdae took pride in grooming herself, her pussy shaved and pink, while Zitao didn’t care so much about those kinds of things. “My gorgeous fucking baby, using your pretty little mouth on my cunt— aren’t you my good baby girl?”

Zitao whined in affirmation, even sounding pathetic as she did so, and only did she vaguely remember that Junmyeon could hear her, could hear all the noises coming from Zitao and Jongdae, and Zitao wondered if Junmyeon was still on the line, trying to figure out what was happening, or if she had figured it out since Jongdae’s first moan, and had hung up. Zitao wondered if she’d be fired for this. Junmyeon had every right to.

But all her concerns with that were washed away when she felt Jongdae fucking into her mouth more and more, her hips rocking intense. Zitao pointed her tongue, slipping her fingers underneath Jongdae’s hips and sliding one into her cunt, to feel Jongdae spasm and cry out her name— oh god, Jongdae was so perfect. 

“‘M gonna come all over your face, Taozi,” Jongdae said, her voice loud, slurred from the pleasure. Zitao pushed on Jongdae’s hips, made her lean back on her arms. The new position allowed Zitao to tongue directly at Jongdae’s clit, spreading her lips and sucking hard against it. “Right there, don’t stop, don’t stop— oh my god.” 

Jongdae barely rushed her words out, her eyes crossing from the pleasure before she went silent, mouth parted as little gasps escaped her while she came. And god, if Jongdae wasn’t the most beautiful like this: her hips tight, thighs tensed, body shaking as she came, her arms struggling to hold herself up. Jongdae kept rolling her hips, almost sobbing in overstimulation before she finally pulled herself off of Zitao’s face, immediately catching her lips between her own and kissing her  _ hard. _

“More, jiejie,” Zitao pleaded. Jongdae jumped when Zitao brushed her fingers against her pussy.

“Fourth time,” Jongdae said. Zitao nodded, her mouth feeling dry, body suddenly hot.

It didn’t take too long for Zitao to come a fourth time, bent over on her hands and knees while Jongdae fucked her fingers inside of Zitao and curved around the rough parts of her walls. Zitao wailed, burying her face in the pillows beneath her and clenching tightly around Jongdae’s fingers as she felt slick rush out of her body all at once, her pussy so sensitive, so tight around Jongdae’s fingers.

Zitao fell on the bed with a loud sigh after the fourth, Jongdae flopping down beside her and letting out a quiet laugh. Zitao looked over at her, moving her fingers over to Jongdae’s lips, tugging a few sticky pieces of hair away from her cheeks.

Jongdae reached over to Zitao’s phone, found it locked, and the call ended.

“How long do you think it took her to realize what we were doing?” Jongdae said, amused. Zitao flushed furiously at the thought, ignoring the anxiety in the pit of her stomach, because she still really could lose her job for this, even if Junmyeon was calling outside of work hours. Zitao didn’t really have a set schedule— everyone knew that. Junmyeon calling outside of work hours wasn’t all that strange.

Jongdae unlocked Zitao’s phone, opening the call history.

“Hm... Five minutes. So probably right after I came.” Jongdae grinned. Zitao flushed darker, hiding her face in the palms of her hands and shaking her head. “Are you embarrassed, my sweet little peach?”

“Oh god, shut up,” Zitao said, a laugh erupting from her chest as Jongdae snickered with her. They laughed for a moment more, calming down and catching their breath, and... and then they were kissing. Jongdae tasted like Zitao, but Zitao tasted like Jongdae, so neither of them really cared, and truth be told, neither of them minded. Zitao tangled her fingers in Jongdae’s hair, felt the rush of an exhale through her chest. Fondness suddenly overtook Zitao’s heart, threatened to tighten and suffocate her if she didn’t do something.

“Zhongda,” Zitao said, reverting to Mandarin. Jongdae recognized it, but wasn't completely fluent, only understood every other word sometimes. Still, she nodded in acknowledgement. “Zhongda, stay with me.”

“I wasn't planning on leaving the bed anytime soon.” Jongdae snorted and noticed the expression on Zitao’s face.

“I didn't mean don't leave the bed, dummy.” Zitao felt affection flood her chest as she held Jongdae closer.

“I just made you come four times, I’d recommend shutting your smart mouth for at least an hour.”

“Zhongda, Zhongda, my pretty Zhongda.” Zitao nuzzled her face in close to Jongdae’s throat, kissing and hoping she left invisible marks on her skin, hoping she was doing something to show how much she loved Jongdae, how much she wanted her to—

“I’ll stay with you.”

Jongdae’s voice came suddenly, full of authority. Zitao looked at her, their eyes meeting, and for a moment, Zitao saw... vulnerability. Wanting. Jongdae needing Zitao. It was lovely.

“Thank you.”

  
  
  
  
  


The following work day, Zitao got ready after taking a long, hot shower, Jongdae slipping in halfway through it and leaving open mouthed kisses on the back of Zitao’s neck. It only served to make heat rush through Zitao while the two stood in the shower, and Zitao let Jongdae eat her out in the shower, though she was still a little sensitive. But she’d rather be damned than let this pass her by.

“Think about me while you’re at work,” Jongdae whispered against Zitao’s ear as she pulled her shoes on. “And come home as early as you can, so I can have you all to myself.”

“You’re insatiable.” Zitao had laughed, swaying her hips in time with Jongdae’s own as they stood in the doorway.

“If you don’t hurry home, Taozi, I might just have to make a visit and eat you out under the desk.”

Zitao gasped, no point trying to hide how much that turned her on.

“And tell your boss I said hi.” Jongdae snickered with finality, and Zitao rolled her eyes, leaving the apartment and heading towards work.

  
  
  


When Zitao walked into the office the following day, none of her coworkers gave her any odd looks, other than commenting on the purpling bruises on her throat, which she had feebly tried to cover up with a golden choker and some makeup, but to no avail. Still, it was a valiant effort, and her outfit looked good.

Junmyeon didn’t immediately call Zitao into her office, which was... odd. Unusual, because typically Zitao had orders from Junmyeon overflowing in her basket at her desk by the time she made it into work, so for nothing to be happening.... It made Zitao’s stomach twist. Was Junmyeon going to fire her? Her reputation would be ruined if she was fired by Junmyeon. She’d look desperate applying anywhere else. This was where Zitao _belonged._

Finally, after two hours of Zitao searching through stacks of paper and trying not to think about how sore her clit was from Jongdae’s incessant need to overwork her, Junmyeon called Zitao into her office. She was seated at her desk, looking through a catalogue preview and flipping through the pages of photographs.

Zitao didn’t clear her throat to capture Junmyeon’s attention. She just stood there, waiting, and finally, after a moment, Junmyeon looked up to Zitao.

“I need your opinion on this season’s catalogue. You have... decent style. I use the term “decent” loosely.” Junmyeon said. Zitao nearly let out a sigh of relief. Junmyeon was acting semi-normal, but there was a pink flush on her cheeks, and she avoided Zitao’s eye contact for more than a few seconds. But Zitao did as she was told, gave her opinions on a few pages— scrap this one, move this picture here, don’t include this caption. Junmyeon listened, agreeing with her a few times, disagreeing and discussing as well, and finally, they had finished.

“Would you like me to get you a coffee?” Zitao said as she rose from her seat, sweeping her hands over the draped skirt she wore. Junmyeon nodded, rubbing her forehead and sighing. She was frustrated, visibly so, and Zitao could tell without even needing an explanation.

Without pressing, Zitao began to take her leave, starting towards the door with the gentle  _ click-clack  _ of her heels against the floor. Junmyeon cleared her throat, and Zitao looked over her shoulder. Junmyeon was... blushing. Again. Her hands were folded on top of her desk, eyes carefully darting up towards Zitao before she parted her lips to speak.

“Uhm,” she said, unsure of how to word her thoughts. “Er, I.... About that night I called you.”

Zitao’s blood suddenly ran cold. Junmyeon wasn’t just going to fire her like that, was she? Not after asking her opinion like that? Not after being so casual?

“I apologize for calling outside of work so often,” Junmyeon mumbled. “Usually they’re not emergencies. I know I said I would only call for emergencies.”

“Was it an emergency?”

Junmyeon flushed darker now that she had been called out. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Well... it’s all right. I don’t mind.”

“I intruded on something.” Junmyeon looked away.

“Ah, that.... I’m sorry you heard that. I didn’t even realize it had happened. My roommate pointed it out.” Zitao tried to play it off. Junmyeon didn’t appear all that interested in the reasoning, and more in apologizing again. “It won’t happen again.”

“That’s fine. Uhm, that’s all, Zitao.”

Junmyeon dismissed her with finality, Zitao walking out of her office with a small smile on her face as she picked up her purse to go out for coffee, and maybe unbuttoning a couple of the buttons on her shirt, moving the collar just enough to give a better view of the bruising spots on her throat, and pulling her phone out of her purse so she could call Jongdae on her short break.

**Author's Note:**

> that was 10k of nothing but bad smut thank you for enduring it!! lmk if you found any typos~ ♥


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